


Let Me Help You

by irisqod



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:16:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisqod/pseuds/irisqod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John had gotten his tie undone and his shoes off, but that was it. Sherlock crossed the room in three long strides and gently pushed John against the wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Help You

John came home exhausted after a particularly brutal day at A&E.

It had started out all right. A newlywed couple came in for what they thought was a case of food poisoning in the wife. They were here on their honeymoon from the United States and the poor woman, who’d been vomiting for almost a day and a half, was getting scared. 

“So nothing stays down, then?” John asked. 

“No,” said the husband. The wife’s eyes got big and she grabbed for the basin next to her on the gurney. “Oh God, here we go again,” and dry heaved into the empty receptacle.

“Your labs should be back soon, and then we’ll know what we are looking at and how to deal with it. “ John smiled and left the curtained area the couple was settled in.

Turned out the wife was pregnant and suffering from a spectacular case of morning sickness. “You’re about six weeks along, if the dates you gave me are right. Congratulations!” She threw up again.

The day got worse from there. 

A six year old came in with an allergic reaction to tree nuts. He’d traded something from his school lunch with a friend who didn’t know about the allergy. He was swollen up and his airway was all but closed off by the time the school nurse brought him in. John never got used to the kids that came in injured or in distress.

It was quiet for a few hours, but just as he was getting ready to go off-shift and go home, a young man was brought in. He had wrecked his motorbike and was a mass of blood and broken bones.

He was in his twenties and had apparently been going too fast around a corner, laid the bike down and went under an oncoming bus in the opposite traffic lane.  
The helmet he’d been wearing did its job and protected his brain, but his body was ruined. John had worked on him for nearly an hour trying to stabilize him for surgery, but his injuries were too numerous and he had died.

John dragged himself up the 17 steps to the flat, opened the door, stripped off his jacket and said, “Sherlock, I’m taking a shower and going to bed.” He kissed Sherlock on his way through the kitchen to their room. “Goodnight, I’ll see you later?”

Sherlock knew his doctor well enough by now to know that John’s day had been bad. Someone must have died while in his care. John hated to lose.

 

He heard John in their room getting undressed. Sherlock got up from his worktop and went in after him.

John had gotten his tie undone and his shoes off, but that was it. Sherlock crossed the room in three long strides and gently pushed John against the wall.

“Let me help you,” he said and started to unbutton John’s shirt. After each button was loosed, Sherlock kissed the skin beneath. He stroked and caressed. “Let me help you.” John still wore his dog tags and Sherlock was the only person who knew that. He lifted them and used them to pull John into a gentle kiss. “Let me help you.”

His hands went to work on John’s belt next, unclasping the buckle and slipping the leather free. Sherlock bent and kissed the space below John’s navel. “Let me help you.” He undid the button on the trousers, ran the zip down and pushed the trousers out of the way.

Sherlock was kneeling in front of John now. He pulled on the band of his pants and freed John’s cock from the material, “Let me help you.”

John didn’t think he could get turned on after the day he’d had, but the sight of Sherlock on his knees in front of him always worked. Sherlock’s mantra of ‘let me help you’ was making his head spin. He ran his fingers into Sherlock’s dark curls.

“Sher –“ he began, but Sherlock cut him off. “Shhh, love. Let me help you.”

He stroked John with care. He knew what John liked; what he needed. Slow, firm pressure. A bead of precome was forming at the tip of John’s flushed cock. Sherlock leaned in and licked it away, dipping his tongue into the slit, which made John groan.

“Let me help you.” He ran his tongue around the head and elicited another groan from John. A long downward stroke of his hand followed by his lips sliding down the underside of John’s cock to his testicles made John throw his head back against the wall and tighten his grip on Sherlock’s hair.

“Let me help you.” Sherlock looked up at John’s face from his position on the floor and said it again, “let me help you, love.”

He took John’s cock in his mouth and began to suck. But not just suck; he was using his hand, his lips and tongue. And his voice, that voice. A constant rumble traveled the length of John’s penis all the way to its base – Sherlock was humming in that delicious baritone voice of his. Friction, traction and vibration in concert making John’s legs shake and his stomach muscles shudder. He had braced his upper back and shoulders against the wall. 

“Oh, yes. Please don’t stop. That is so lovely. Don’t stop. I love you, Sherlock. I love you so much.” John was trying not to thrust into Sherlock’s mouth too much; he wanted to relax and let this gift wash over him. “Sherlock, I’m going to come.” John placed his free hand on Sherlock’s cheek as his orgasm broke through him, washing the tension from his body and sweeping the memory of his horrible day out of his mind. He pulsed in his husband’s mouth, and pulsed, and again, his vocabulary reduced to one word: “Sherlock,” spoken over and over, like a prayer.

Sherlock took everything John gave him, warm and slippery and distinctly John. His John.

When they had both come back to themselves, Sherlock stood and took his love in his arms. “Better?”

“Yes, much better. Thank you.” John smiled. “Join me in the shower?”

“Obviously” Sherlock smiled back.


End file.
